Mistartis The Witch's Kitten
by alemomo
Summary: Mistartis has always stayed in the dark, stayed back, and let the others do everything. Why should she make herself heard, when the other Jellicle Cats seem better off without her? But that all changes, turning her quiet life upside down, and starting with a simple song for the Jellicle Ball.


"Mistartis!"

The usually silent kitten appeared from the shadows, her Charcoal Bengal colouring helping her blend in, cocking her head in Munkustrap's direction.

"Are you going to be performing your number at the Ball?"

She considered this for an instant.

"If it's ok with you." Her voice was like silk, glitter, it shimmered through the air like music, quiet, skilful, music.

"And the other songs, that everyone takes part in?"

"If it's ok with you." She repeated.

"We start practising tomorrow."

She nodded her dark head, amber eyes glistening, before turning and padding over to the junk pile she called home, then vanishing. She made no sound as she picked over the rubbish in her 'den', deciding on a half a comfy sofa for her bed, and curling up to sleep.

The other cats wondered about her. They knew certain things about her past, but, for the most part, she was a mystery, never staying near them long enough for them to start a conversation with her, or ask her a question. She had no opinion on things, and if she was asked anything her answer would be 'If it's ok with you', or, 'If you think so', or, 'Whatever you want'. Rum Tum Tugger didn't even bother trying to flirt with her, as she took no interest in him, unlike the other kittens, and so was her life for a good few years.

The next day came, and she sat on a tire waiting for the others at the crack of dawn, half a mouse in her paws, the other part in her stomach. As the others started to wake up, she fully ate the mouse, turning into her Jellicle form and thinking of her song. She always changed it a little, every year, and changed her dance routine a little bit too, but never too much, just enough to be noticed.

As the day wore on, she got bored. Everyone was yelling at each other, arguing about moves in a dance, so she sneaked off, and started to practise her own song.

 _Mistartis..._ She began.

 _The witch's kitten,_

 _The magical kitten,_

 _Say what you like,_

 _Do what you please,_

 _For she is the kitten,_

 _Forever a kitten._

Not so bad, but she had to be quiet. Adding her dance moves to it, she continued to the second verse.

 _Creeping in the shadows,_

 _Can you see her?_

 _Always sneaking about._

 _Why? They ask._

 _Well, I tell them,_

 _That is not for me to say._

Hm. Ok. She was getting there. Remembering to be quiet, she started on the third verse.

 _The witch's kitten,_

 _No flights on broomsticks,_

 _Just straight forward spells and curses._

' _Till the fire, flames blazing,_

 _Tore her down, marked her coat,_

 _Killed the witch, left her alive._

Would they mind the description? Probably not. On to the chorus again.

 _Mistartis,_

 _The witch's kitten,_

 _The magical kitten,_

 _Say what you like,_

 _Do what you please,_

 _For she is the kitten,_

 _Forever a kitten._

Moving on, but, as she reminded herself mentally, be quiet!

 _When the flames came up,_

 _And the ropes went down,_

 _Her eyes, they went,_

 _To the witch's face,_

 _Who nodded, with a tear,_

 _Please, go on, my dear,_

 _For I, am done, but you, are not,_

 _So the kitten ran,_

 _And the kitten hid,_

 _As it all came down,_

 _And the tears, they stained her coat,_

 _What was once white,_

 _Became golden with flame,_

 _What was once black,_

 _Became dark-striped,_

 _And all the water,_

 _In the world, Couldn't,_

 _Cure her,_

 _Forever marked,_

 _Forever alone,_

 _Forever,_

 _Forever,_

 _A kitten._

Clapping caught her attention. Whizzing round, she was surprised to see everyone's eyes on her, and immediately hid from the attention by becoming invisible. Where had all that came from? Usually, she sang about snippets from her past, maybe the spells she had learned, or the witch who had took her in, but about how the witch had died? Sacrificed her life for a kitten's? How her coat came to be the way it was?

Before anyone could say anything to her, she ran to her junk pile. Flitting in the door, and curling up on the half sofa, she just couldn't understand why all of that had came out. Remembering her beloved Witch owner brought a tear to her face, which rolled down and splashed onto the floor miserably. Changing out of her Jellicle form, she decided to go hunting to take her mind off things. Hunting made everything better.

Three mice, one rat and a few horrible bugs later, she didn't feel better, but was no longer hungry. Hunting was useful for food, and keeping your mind occupied for small lengths of time, but after that? It didn't really help. The others could squabble over their own dances without her being there, she thought, as she rolled over and tried to sleep. Sleeping would pass the time, and cats were meant to like sleeping, weren't they?

Five minutes later, it was apparent that sleeping wasn't going to help either. Seriously? She padded up and down her hideaway nervously. What was she meant to do? Go out there again? She shuddered at the thought. They might ask questions if she showed so much as a whisker outside. Other kittens would go to Jennyanydots or Jellylorum if they had troubles like this, but that would mean more questions, and she did not want more questions at that moment in time.

To pass the time, she decided on practising her magic. She had more powers under her fur than most other cats, but didn't like to show them off. Sparks, lightning? That was the least she could do. What about making a mouse appear out of nowhere? Or maybe... The junk pile could do with fixing up. But not from the outside. There was a spell she could use, a bit hard, so the outside of the junk pile would look the same as it always had done, but the inside could be different.

About half an hour later, she was finished. She had proper walls, the half sofa was now a full arm chair, there were pillows, paint on the walls, and a box for putting things like mouse and rat bones in. Mistartis filled up a large bucket with magically summoned water, dipping her paws in and cleaning her fur. A brick was next to it, which she sharpened her small claws on, and a few shards of glass stuck together, with magic, made for an almost perfect mirror.

After all that, she felt rather tired, for once, and decided it was time to sleep. And, for once, she actually did.


End file.
